


Lights Out, Lock Down

by roxashasboxers



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Blood, Gen, Hurt!Alex, M/M, Minor Mutilation, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Past Rape/Non-con, Pre-Beast!Hank, Prison, Self-Harm, X-Men First Class Kink Meme, complete disregard for time period in regards to law and medicine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-19
Updated: 2011-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:03:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxashasboxers/pseuds/roxashasboxers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill for the X-Men: First Class Kink Meme: Hank finally gets fed up with Alex calling him Bozo and Big Foot so he decides to tease him back about the whole jail thing by implying that he was every body's bitch in prison. When Alex hears this he storms out of the room and everybody figures that Alex is the type of person that can dish it but can't take it. But over the next few days they notice that Alex has curled into himself and is abnormally quiet and refuses to touch anyone. Turns out he WAS the prison bitch and solitary was the only way to get out of it. Cut the epic h/c.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song "The Lock Down Denial" by Cute Is What We Aim For.

Alex is slumped against the wall of the bunker, exhausted and sweating, watching the flames die down and the smoke move through the air. The flickering fire light is reflected in his glassy eyes, and he appears to be in a trance. The anger Charles felt earlier is being shuttered away, but he knows he was still right to come, if not only to get Alex out of the bunker so he doesn't die from inhaling the smoke.

"Alex." He calls, concerned, but the teen doesn't even look up at him. Charles touches his shoulder, shakes him lightly, "Alex? Alex, you need to come with me."

Alex turns dead eyes on him, and Charles isn't sure if it's the smoke making them water or something else, but Alex is most definitely crying. He doesn't move or even speak, but Charles considers it a success when he's able to bring the blond to his feet and drag him outside without any major problems.

Once out in the daylight, Charles takes a look at the younger man. Alex's clothes are dark with sweat and his hair isn't looking much better. There's dirt on his hands and face, the knees of his sweats, and his eyes are rimmed with red. Charles sets Alex against the wall and sends out a mental message to Erik to keep everyone away from the training area until otherwise informed.

He kneels beside the young mutant, "What were you doing, Alex?"

Alex shrugs and mutters something, but doesn't make eye contact.

"I'm sorry? I didn't catch that?"

Alex lolls his head towards the professor, "I was practicing."

Charles shakes his head, "Alex, that wasn't practice. You're absolutely exhausted, close to fainting, really. Why on earth would you put yourself through this? It's not just stupid, it's dangerous."

"Well, then I guess it's perfect for me, huh?"

Charles frowns, "Alex, you know I don't appreciate that. Now tell me why you were out here?"

Alex sighs and looks away, "I was angry. I just needed to get away, let off some steam."

Charles glances back at the closed bunker, wondering exactly how much steam Alex needed to let off. He's sure he'll need to make repairs, but he'll find out the extent of the damage later, when the flames have died out and he's sure Alex is not going to endanger himself or anyone else.

Charles shifts to sit beside his charge, "Did something happen?"

Alex swipes a hand across his face, "If it's no big deal, I'd actually like to be alone right now." Charles is about to protest when Alex adds, "Don't worry, I won't be blasting any time soon."

Charles chuckles with relief, "Well, then. Try not to stay away too long."

Alex doesn't answer and Charles returns to the mansion, barely resisting the urge to look over his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

Charles enters the common area where Raven, Sean, and Hank are sitting and watching television. They look up when he enters the room.

"Do any of you have any idea why Alex is acting... the way he is?" Charles finishes awkwardly.

Raven smirks, "I think it's genetic."

Hank chuckles and Sean snorts into his soda, setting off a coughing fit that makes Hank laugh harder. Raven is laughing right along with them until she catches sight of her brother's frown, "Charles? What is it? Is Alex okay?"

Sean and Hank calm at the change and turn towards Charles, Sean's eyes watery from choking.

Charles shakes his head, "I'm not sure, to be completely honest." He pauses, "So nothing... _unusual_ happened today?"

"Hank finally grew a backbone." Sean answers, hiding a playful grin behind his drink. Hank blushes, staring down at his lap bashfully.

Raven grins at the brunette before looking back at her brother with a meaningful expression, "Alex just isn't used to people making jokes about _him_ , is all."

Sean grunts his assent, eyebrows lifting briefly.

Charles straightens. "Oh. Well, alright then."

And he doesn't think about it for the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

The following morning Alex doesn't come down for breakfast. Charles comments on this and receives shrugs.

"He's probably trying to think of a comeback." Raven jokes, and although Charles doesn't appreciate mockery at anyone's expense, he feels a grin tug at his lips. Raven hasn't been herself in a while, but she's slowly getting back to normal, cracking jokes like before.

"So what exactly happened?" Erik asks after the laughter ceases, and Charles is happy to see him taking part in the conversation as well.

Sean takes it upon himself to tell the story. "So it was after dinner and we were all just hanging out, right?"

 

* * *

 

_"Move over, Bigfoot," Alex teases, shoving Hank over so he can sit on the couch as well._

_Hank glares at him. "If you have such a thing for big feet, why'd you get yourself put in isolation?"_

_The room erupts into laughs and Alex stares at Hank with wide eyes. "What?"_

_It's Sean who answers him. "Pretty sure he just called you the prison bitch."_

_"Thanks." Alex sneers at Sean, casting a quick glance back at Hank before standing up. He hears several voices calling after him, but he cuts them off with a slammed door._

* * *

  

"He was pretty mad," Sean answers around his cereal with a laugh. The other children respond in kind and even Erik chuckles, but Charles freezes at the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Raven notices, and immediately shifts from amused to concerned. "Charles?"

Charles wipes his hands on his napkin. "If you'll excuse me for a moment..."

He flashes a tight smile and exits the dining area as quickly as he can, breaking into a sprint when he's out of sight. He can feel Alex on the training grounds, a point of rage and loathing that reads like fire. Charles forces himself to run a little faster.

 

* * *

 

Alex howls as he lets loose another beam, the drain on his body refreshing but his mind isn't calming like it had yesterday. In fact, with every blast he grows more upset, and soon he's choking on sobs and smoke, the mannequin opposite him diminished to ash long ago. His skin feels hot and the air is thick around him. He releases another stream of energy and screams for more than he'll ever be worth.

Charles reaches out with his mind when he's within range. Alex forces him away but Charles persists, his proximity making him stronger and soon he's able to reach past the anger and into Alex's consciousness, _Calm your mind._

Alex resists, sending a pulse of loathing in Charles' direction.

Charles tries again, the bunker now in sight, _Alex, you need to stop this. Alex, listen to me! You're going to hurt yourself! Calm your mind._

Alex growls.

 _Alex, I understand that you're angry, but this isn't going to help anyone, let alone yourself. You need to stop this. I know what happened to you._ Charles finishes grimly. He can feel Alex's resistance breaking as he reaches the bunker and he dashes down the steps just in time to catch the blond as he falls to the ground. Charles pulls Alex to him tightly, running his fingers through sweat-damp hair and projecting the calm Alex needs. Alex pushes away at first, but he's weak with exhaustion and after a brief moment of fighting he clings back, sobbing into Charles' shirt.

All of Alex's pain and anguish flows into Charles' mind, like the breaking of a dam and Charles is sure he would have fallen under the sudden onslaught of emotion had he not already been sitting. Alex's mind is riddled with bad memories brought to the surface after months of being repressed. It's almost as if they're angry at being forgotten, breaking free with a vengeance. They're some of the sharpest memories Charles has ever encountered and he thinks bitterly that the worst ones always are...

 

* * *

 

  _Hands. Large and calloused and cruel. They close around his throat, tight, tighter, release. Wheezing, on his hands and knees, trying to breathe. His fingers are blurry, clutching at the ground. He looks up, fearful._

 _Dark eyes, brown, smiling down at him. A face he had stupidly trusted. A large body leaning over him, a second shadow in the corner. Hands pushing him down, holding him there, gripping his wrists, crushing his bones. Crying, resisting._ No! Don't! _He struggles, screams, gets one arm free and claws at the floor. The tips of his fingers bleed._  
  
 _A slap, open hand, and another, closed fist. He's dizzy, falling back to the ground. Cool air against skin. Hot breath follows._

 _He shivers,_ Please. _He's ignored._  
  
 _Hands on his hips, nails breaking skin, ripping flesh. He bites his lip, shakes his head in denial. Tears drip onto the dirty floor._

_Pain. He screams, shrill and agonized. He's never made that sound before and he won't make it again. Words he can't repeat leave a bad taste in his mouth. Time is measured in pain. Flipped over, on his back now. He looks away; they bring him back._

_A sharp pain, metallic scent and he cries out. A hand covers his mouth, it's twin slicing him open. He bleeds as today is carved into his chest, beaten into his heart._ So you won't forget, _they tell him._

_He vomits when it's over._

It's never over.

 

* * *

 

Charles withdraws from the memory with fresh tears. He'd known, of course he'd _known_ , this isn't the first time he's touched Alex's mind, but he'd never been let in, never had access to the deepest parts of his brain. He'd never actually shared the memory, never felt anything more than a distant fear. He holds Alex a little tighter, _You're safe now. Never again. I promise you, Alex, never again._

 

* * *

 

Charles manages to get Alex cleaned up, fed, and off to bed without much fuss. They don't encounter anyone else and Charles is sure Erik is responsible, at least in part. He's extremely grateful for that.

It isn't until several hours later that Charles finds himself outside of Hank's lab. He knocks gently on the door.

"Come in." Hank calls out, obviously in the middle of something. Charles does as asked, shutting the door behind him quietly and leaning against it. Hank turns around when Charles doesn't move further into the room.

"Professor." He greets with a nod, and Charles doesn't quite know what to say. He thinks Hank should be made aware of the effect his words had on Alex, but he also doesn't want the boy to feel guilty when he was only trying to defend himself.

"Um... Have you by chance spoken to Alex recently?" Charles asks, figuring it's as good a place to start as any.

Hank shakes his head. "Well, he wasn't at dinner yesterday and he missed breakfast this morning, so no. Why?"

Charles frowns. "You don't find that... odd?"

"Well, kind of. But I figured he was still mad about earlier." Hank's lips quirk almost triumphantly and Charles is positive the scientist wouldn't hold such pride if he knew how deeply he'd wounded Alex.

Charles sighs, not wanting to guilt the young man, or share secrets he has no right to. "Hank, I think you should talk to him."

Hank frowns. "Is he really that mad? It was just a joke. I didn't mean-"

"I know you didn't mean anything, but Alex has a very... interesting past. It's not to be taken lightly." Charles explains, "Your words hold more weight than you know."

 

* * *

 

Alex doesn't show up for lunch or dinner, and Charles is aware that the others are starting to sense something may be wrong. Erik raises an eyebrow at Charles, but the telepath ignores him. _Later,_  He thinks.

Halfway though the meal Raven mentions Alex's absence, obviously the only one with enough nerve to do so. Charles takes a sip of water and claims that Alex is simply feeling ill. He sends a subtle glance in Hank's direction and the young man shifts uncomfortably. Dinner is quiet.

 

* * *

 

Alex hasn't looked in a mirror since it happened. He cuts his eyes away whenever he passes anything that might hold his reflection, terrified of what he'll see.

But something is different about today. He knows this as he enters the bathroom, head down. Something has shifted inside of him and he wants to face the monster, wants to defeat it once and for all. And if he can't?

Well, he'll be rid of it either way.

He looks up.

It's not what he'd expected. He looks... normal. His hair's grown out a little longer and his eyes are dark from lack of sleep but otherwise he looks the same. Just... older. Less naive.

Slowly, Alex brings his fingers to the hem of his shirt. He hesitates briefly before stripping his last line of defense away.

When he sees the raised lines of letters embossed in his skin, his eyes water, as if trying to blur the truth, hide it away forever. He wipes at his tears angrily, forces himself to read the word, admit who and what he is. It passes his lips silently at first, then again louder, and finally he's screaming at his reflection, "Whore!!"

His fist flies forward, smashing into his own miserable face and the mirror splinters, shards lodged in his hand. He hits it again, and again, and again. He keeps going until he can't see himself and his hands are stinging, covered in blood and glass. Then he lets the tears fall with his body, and he's crying on the bathroom floor, unable to hide from the truth.

Unable to hide from himself.

Unable to hide from the whore.

 

* * *

 

Hank is headed towards Alex's room after dinner, dragging his feet with dread. Something about the way Charles addressed him makes his gut clench and he thinks he's crossed a line he hadn't known existed.

He stops outside the blond's door and wrings his hands before knocking, "Alex? Alex, it's Hank. We need to talk."

There's no response so Hank knocks again. "Alex? Look, I'm sorry about what I said. Could you let me in? Alex?"

Hank shrugs. "Alright, Alex. I'm coming in, okay?"

He waits a beat and when he doesn't hear anything he pushes open the door. The room is empty, though the bed has clearly been slept in. Hank is about to turn and leave, maybe check the training grounds when he hears something in the bathroom. He glances over to see light coming from under the door and crosses the room with a sigh.

"Alex, it's Hank. Can we talk?" He calls through the door, expecting Alex to turn on the shower or tell him to fuck off. He doesn't hear anything.

Feeling uneasy, Hank brings his hand to the doorknob and turns it.

The first thing he notices is the smell. He can't name it, though he knows he should be able to. It's sharp and pungent and it's almost like, like...

Hank's eyes widen when he sees the bathroom. The mirror is shattered, broken glass littering the counter and floor. There's blood everywhere and Hank feels sick now that he's sure of the scent. Alex is slumped against the cabinets, knees pulled tight to his chest, bloody hands buried in his hair. He's silent and for a brief, terrifying moment, Hank thinks he's dead.

"Alex?" Hank calls out tentatively.

"Get out." Alex mutters against his knees.

"What happened?" Hank asks, pushing broken glass aside with his shoe, "Jesus Alex, you're bleeding."

Alex snorts a laugh at that, "No shit. Looks like your work's all done here, Science Boy. Now get out."

Hank frowns and reaches out for one of Alex's wounded hands, but the blond jerks away. He looks up with a snarl, blood on his face with tear tracks cutting through it, "Get out!"

"But-"

"I said get the fuck out!" Alex screams, his body starting to glow red with power.

Hank stumbles away and out of the bathroom, terrified. He runs to find Charles, sending out a mental S.O.S. that he hopes will alert the older man faster.

 

* * *

 

Alex drops his head once Hank is gone. His hands are shaking and he cuts his eyes away from them only to catch his reflection in a piece of the shattered mirror. He picks it up with a growl, fully prepared to throw it across the room when he sees the word staring back at him from the small piece of glass. He drops it, startled, and the skin of his palm splits along the shard's path.

The mirror has his blood on it, right where the word still lurks, mocking him. He smears his thumb across the surface to hide it fully.

The movement makes him freeze, and Alex's stare jumps from his chest to his obscured reflection and back again.

 

* * *

 

Hank crashes into Charles halfway across the mansion, already heading towards Alex's room, "Charles! It's Alex!"

"I know." Charles cuts him off before he can ramble and then they're both running again.

 

* * *

 

Alex is driven by a lot of things when he picks the shard up this time, though there's laughter in his head as he drags the piece of mirror across his chest, making a thick line through the scar. He hisses, teeth clenched, but doesn't stop.

Pulling the glass free, Alex brings it down again, higher up. He presses harder, drives it a little deeper and this time a sob breaks past his lips. Blood flows freely from both wounds but that doesn't stop him. He makes another cut. And another. And another...

 

* * *

 

 Erik comes running from an adjoining hallway, first aid kit in hand. Charles doesn't even acknowledge him and Hank wonders how much worse this would turn out if the professor wasn't a telepath.

 

* * *

 

The pain doesn't even register anymore. Alex knows this should worry him, but it doesn't. Not when he can hide everything in his blood, distort it until he's fucked up by his own hand and no one else's.

A pained laugh escapes him. He's almost free. All this time and he's only ever needed to bleed.

It ends how it began.

 

* * *

 

The three mutants crash into the bedroom like a stampede and tumble towards the bathroom. It would probably be comical if they weren't all so damn terrified.

"Oh God." Charles gasps when he reaches the doorway to the bathroom. Hank comes up beside him and freezes. Alex is hysterical, deep gashes covering his chest and spilling blood onto the floor.

Hank can't do anything but stare as Erik pushes both him and the professor out of the way and crosses the small room to Alex's side. Carefully, he pries a shard of glass from Alex's hand. Alex lets him.

 

* * *

 

Alex is laughing when Charles, Erik and Hank burst into the room, delirious but the closest to pure he's felt in forever. He doesn't even fight when Erik takes the glass from him. He doesn't need to. He's all better now.

Charles breaks from his own trance and enters the bathroom. He fetches a towel from one of the cabinets and presses it tightly to Alex's bloody chest while Erik sorts out the first aid supplies with a disturbingly calm air. Charles looks down at Alex in horror when the towel starts to soak through and a whisper passes his lips, "What in God's name have you done?"

Alex lolls his head to the side, a peaceful smile on his face, "I fixed it."

 

* * *

 

Charles finds Hank in his lab later, trying to do some sort of experiment but his hands are shaking too hard to get anything done. He looks up at Charles and relief fills him when he doesn't see tears. Still, "Is Alex alright?"

"Yes," Charles answers and crosses the lab. He puts a hand on Hank's shoulder, "Are you?"

Hank shrugs, "I guess."

Charles doesn't remove his hand and Hank remembers he's talking to a telepath. It doesn't bother him that much right now. "Charles? What, uh, what happened to him?"

Charles looks away sadly, and Hank clarifies even though he doesn't need to, "Before."

"Come." Charles pats his shoulder, "I think it would be better if we discussed this elsewhere."

 

* * *

 

Charles leads Hank to his study and directs the younger man to sit. He then walks over to the small office space he's set up in the corner and opens a filing cabinet that Hank hadn't noticed when he first entered.

Charles takes a breath and looks back at him, now holding a thick manilla folder, "Under different circumstances, I would have you ask Alex. However, he has given me permission to tell you and I don't believe he is up for conversation at the moment. I also believe it is important for you to understand what you have witnessed."

Hank nods, waiting patiently. Charles drops the folder on the coffee table in front of him and sits in the chair opposite. Hank looks up at him with questioning eyes and Charles merely gestures at the file.

Hank reaches out hesitantly and flips it open.

He freezes.

Hank runs his finger over the pictures paper-clipped to hospital records, as if to confirm what he's seeing. He feels tears sting his eyes and looks up at Charles. The professor stares back somberly and Hank returns his eyes to the pictures before him.

There are so many of them, some capturing recently stitched wounds on Alex's chest, others cataloging bruises and what Hank is sure is a bite mark. It's the foremost of these that triggers a feeling of unease in Hank. The lines look like they should be something, make an image or a word, but between the dried blood and overlapping stitches, Hank can't make any shapes out.

There's also a close up of Alex's face that depicts a black eye and a split lip. Bruises made by more than one fist, and a ring of fingerprints around his neck.

Hank feels sick even before he reads the words on the attached paper.

He looks up and meets Charles' equally wet eyes, "He... Alex was...?"

He can't even say it. He fucking made a joke about it and now he can't even say it.

Charles nods, "Sexually assaulted, yes. I'm afraid so."

Hank's stomach turns the second he hears the words and he sprints to the bathroom, barely reaching the toilet in time to empty his stomach. He's aware of Charles standing behind him when he's finished.

Hank looks up at the professor with tears in his eyes and a bad taste in his mouth that has nothing to do with his being sick. His chest feels tight and he's close to panic, suddenly needing to know. "What was he doing? In the bathroom, when we came back? What was Alex doing?"

Charles sits down on the floor across from him awkwardly. He meets Hank's stare, unflinching, though he's obviously just as disturbed by Alex's actions, and his voice is shaking when he answers, "He was trying to remove his scars."

Hank shivers and Charles continues, his eyes downcast "It pains me to say that the pictures you have just seen do not accurately portray the injuries Alex received at the hands of his cell mates. Those images were captured when the... _damage_ was fresh. The scarring was never documented, nor was the psychological impact."

Hank clenches his fists as a new wave of tears comes. He shakes his head, "I made a joke about it. He was... attacked and fucking mutilated and I made a goddamn joke about it." He laughs bitterly, swiping at his face.

Hank looks up when he feels Charles' hands on his shoulders, "Hank, I need you to listen: this wasn't your fault. You did not do this to him. You didn't know."

"But-"

"You. Didn't. _Know._ As for the rest..." Charles shakes his head, "I should have been keeping an eye on him, watching for signs. The mind can only repress things like this for so long before something terrible happens."

He sighs, getting to his feet, "Come, let's get you cleaned up before Alex awakens. I have a feeling you'll want to speak with him." He offers his hand to Hank.

 

* * *

 

Hank knocks lightly on the door to Alex's new room. Charles hadn't thought it wise or practical to keep him in the one he'd destroyed, so the teen was moved indefinitely, though Hank bets it will be permanent. Hank eases the door open. "Alex?"

Alex looks up from the bandages wrapped around his torso and drops his hands away from the already frayed edges.

Hank doesn't comment on it, "Can we talk?"

Alex shrugs, sitting up a little straighter and crossing his arms over his chest, "If you want."

Hank pauses, unsure, before entering the room. He shuts the door softly behind him, "Um, about what I said... I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"Shut up."

"-know- what?" Hank asks, startled by Alex's interruption.

"I said 'shut up'. If you're just here to apologize for something that isn't your fault, then save your breath." Alex elaborates.

"Oh. Well, I just wanted to make sure we were okay. I mean, we are okay, right?" Hank asks awkwardly.

Alex chuckles, "We were never really okay, Hank. But yeah, I guess we're good."

Hank shuffles his feet, "And you?"

"Huh?"

Hank clears his throat, "Are you okay?"

Alex doesn't answer for a moment, and then he just shrugs, "I'm okay enough."

Hank frowns, "If you want to talk about it...?"

Alex laughs hoarsely, "Not really, Hank."

"Oh." Hank says, "Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, I just, I'm here."

Alex stares at him, as if gauging his sincerity. He frowns, surprised to find that Hank means it, and finds himself answering softly, "Thanks."

Hank nods, flashing a dorky grin, and gestures towards the door. "Well, I'm gonna..."

"Hank?" Alex calls out just as Hank is about to leave. The brunette turns around expectantly.

"I'm sorry too."

Hank nods, blushing lightly, and leaves.


	2. When It All Comes Undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex confronts Hank about the cure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from the song "My Home" by Thousand Foot Krutch.

 

Hank has been working on the cure for three hours when Alex enters the lab, "Hey."

Hank glances at the clock to find it's well past midnight, "Hey. What're you doing up?"

Alex shrugs, slumping down across from Hank, "Couldn't sleep. You?"

"Uh, just some experiments and stuff." Hank lies, clearing the table of his research.

"I know about the cure." Alex tells him. Hank stills. "You don't need it."

Hank rolls his eyes, and resumes his cleaning, "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"It won't change anything." Alex tells him, "You can look different all you want, it won't change anything."

Hank slows his movements and glances over at Alex. Alex isn't looking back, "Everything that made you want to change still happened. You're still gonna hate yourself. You're still gonna be afraid."

"Alex, I'm not afraid." Hank responds before everything Alex is saying clicks, "Oh."

Alex looks up at him, "You don't need to change, Hank."

Hank meets his gaze evenly, "Neither do you."

Alex nods, "I know. I didn't."

"Alex, you just tried to cut-"

"I _tried_ , Hank!" Alex yells, standing, "It didn't work! Everything still happened! This cure? It's the same thing. It will just break you more!"

He shakes his head, voice dropping low again, "It won't get rid of all the things you feel. It won't take back what anyone did or said... If it makes a difference, and I doubt it will, I'm sorry. For everything. I-" Alex bites his lip and looks at the ground, "Hank, I don't want you to change."

He looks back up, "Don't take the cure."

Hank's eyes water. He can't believe it. He was so close to getting what he wanted, to being normal, and then Alex comes in here with his fucked up hands and his stupidly beautiful face and everything shifts.

Being normal doesn't seem very important anymore.

"I don't want to hide anymore." Hank says softly and Alex looks right back.

"Then don't." He says, and he takes deep breath, hands going to the hem of his shirt, "'Cause I'm done hiding too."

 

* * *

 

Hank is silent. His eyes are roaming across Alex's torso, tracing, analyzing, mapping and theorizing and Alex wants to run away and hide in a corner somewhere. He wants to lock himself in his room and bury himself under his sheets and never come out. He wants to turn back time and keep his shirt on and never fucking admit to anything, not to Hank or anyone else.  
  
But he can't. He knows this and Hank must too, because he's standing up and walking over and Alex's eyes are closed tight but he can feel Hank's body heat and he. Is. Too. Close.   
  
"Can I?" Hank asks and Alex wants to punch him, wants to run, wants to say 'No!' and forget about all of this in the hopes that Hank will do the same, but he's frozen in place, and he can't say anything and stupid Hank takes his silence as permission.  
  
Alex flinches when Hank's hand brushes his skin, and he's crying now, he can't pretend he isn't, not with Hank so close and touching him like everything's fine, like Alex isn't repulsive and crazy and terrified, even though he is all of those things and so much less than the mask he'd been wearing.  
  
Hank's fingers follow the new lines, the old ones lost in the criss-cross of stitches, and Alex prays they'll never be visible underneath, prays those fingers don't shift to trace old paths. He shivers at the thought alone, and then he can't stop and he's shaking, shaking so hard and Hank's touch isn't helping, even when his hands are on Alex's shoulder and face and he's telling Alex to open his eyes and calm down, that he's safe.  
  
Alex shakes his head and opens his mouth on a sob, "I'm not safe." And what he means is  _You're not safe._  
  
He cries a little harder when Hank tries to hold him.  
  
Hank can't even stand himself. Why would he ever want to touch Alex?

 

* * *

  
  
Hank tries to still Alex, to keep him in the here and now because he knows about shock and he doesn't know what else to do and Alex is scaring him. He presses Alex tightly to him, feels bare skin beneath his hands and tries not to fuck anything up, tries not to fuck Alex up because not even Charles will be able to fix him if he falls over the edge again.  
  
Hank cards his fingers through Alex's hair like his mother used to do for him and rubs the other boy's back in slow circles. He freezes when his hand brushes a rough patch of skin. Following it with trembling fingers, Hank lets his hand splay out along Alex's back. He feels himself tremble with rage and pain because there can't really be more, can there? Alex can't possibly have undergone more. Nobody, no human could ever... Not to  _Alex_. He's a dick sometimes, yeah, but he's just a kid and there can't be a person in this world with so little heart. There  _can't._  
  
Hank's near tears himself when Alex shoves him away, "Don't touch me!"  
  
Hank stumbles back, confused, and Alex scrambles for his shirt, tugging it over his head - backwards - and rushes out of the lab.  
  
Hank's fingers tingle.

 

* * *

  
  
Hank's hands touch the second set of scars, the ones Alex can hide from and he instantly stills, a soft gasp puffing out against Alex's temple. Alex doesn't move, the touch making him freeze in terror, memories of last time dredged up from the dark.  
  
Last time.  _It wasn't the last time._  
  
Hank's fingers splay out, warm skin touching what it shouldn't.  
  
 _Dirty hands on his dirty face.  
Dirty boy on a dirty floor.  
Can't get clean, never gonna get clean.  
"Clean me up, kitten."_  
  
Hank moves, tracing...  
  
 _Bloody hands with bloody fingers.  
They're stained.  
It stains._  
  
Running down his back...  
  
 _Fingernails like claws, slipping through the blood  
It's spreading.  
Staining._  
  
Soft, so soft against his scars...  
  
 _Gentle kisses contrast the act.  
His lips taste like salt.  
Stained._  
  
Hank shudders in disgust.  
  
 _Liar, deceiver.  
You know love not._  
 _You're stained._  
  
Alex runs.

 

* * *

 

"Alex!" Hank calls, sprinting out of the room and after the shorter boy, "Alex, it's okay! I'm not- I didn't mean to- I..."  
  
Alex disappears around the corner, "Alex!"  
  
Hank curses, and is about to call Charles when he remembers what Alex said about hiding. He looks down, breathes deep, and toes off his shoes, abandoning them just outside his lab.   
  
The beast carries him out of the mansion and to Alex's side.

 

* * *

  
  
"I'm not gonna fucking talk about it, okay?" Alex says angrily when he realizes he can't outrun Hank.  
  
Hank slows to a walk gratefully. His feet aren't calloused enough to be running across the grounds, "Alex..."  
  
Alex turns around abruptly, "Why are you even talking to me, huh?"  
  
Hank stumbles to avoid crashing into Alex. He frowns, "What do you mean?"  
  
"What do I...? For fuck's sake, you can't even look at your own freaky feet! What the hell would you want anything to do with  _this?_ " Alex gestures angrily at his torso.  
  
"Alex that's-"  
  
"It's not different, Hank!" Alex snaps. He shakes his head disappointedly, "Good luck with your fucking cure. I hope it works."  
  
Hank stares after Alex, dumbfounded. He'd thought... Hadn't they finally become friends? Or something similar? Hadn't they finally found some common ground?  
  
Hank looks down at his feet. They're kneading the ground anxiously and Hank looks back up with a flicker of hope, "Alex! Alex, wait!"  
  
The blond boy turns around, "What?"  
  
"You're right, okay? It's not different. I'm sorry. Look, I- I'm done hiding." Hank gestures down at his feet, "I'm not gonna... Forget the cure, alright? It's not important anymore. Just... please. I don't- Alex, there's nothing wrong with you and if I implied that there was then I'm sorry for that and I don't think you're whatever you think I think you are, okay?"  
  
Alex frowns at him, " _What?_ "   
  
"I don't care about the scars, okay?" Hank says, marching right up to Alex, "I care about you."


End file.
